Dear Jojo Betzlar,
When I first saw you, I saw an innocent kid who was ready to take a bullet right into his head under the subconscious friend’s guidance, called Hitler. When you hailed “Heil Hitler” and became the strong rabbit to hunt for life, sneaking from one territory to another, I knew there was an adventurous kid hiding inside you. The scars painted in your face didn’t make you look ugly; the scars made on your face after your first trial of bombing under the Nazi camp, might have changed your facial look, but it made you different from the others (Nazi). You were different from the rest, and your Mama knew it well.
The moment you met your Jewish friend, I believe there was an explosion inside you, burning your body and the mind, but there came a time when she melted your heart with the butterflies inside your belly, and you turned more human than the rest. You loved Inga, your sister, and that Jewish girl taking shelter under your roof was not less than her; you made a friendly ally with her and that’s how you became free from being enslaved by those unwanted and brutal thoughts.
You were ten, you were not meant to be crawling into the dirt of politics or to attach the pride to your body of being a German by wearing that swastika stitched to your attire. Mama said you “You’re growing up too fast. A ten-year old shouldn’t be celebrating war and talking politics. You should be climbing trees, and then falling out of those trees”, and she was right; that’s how she showed you a natural and a better way to lead your life. You were the most brave and innocent kid in my eyes, brave enough to write forged love letters for the Jewish girl under the name of Nathan. Even though you forged it,I had no rage on your behaviour because I knew you loved her and your actions were valid to keep her happy.
Mama was hanged to death because she was against the war, against the brutality of the humans, all she wanted was peace. When you saw her, held her legs and cried, your tears carried a story; there was a history to be told to the next generation. You went back to your home with a rage inside you, a rage of killing your friendly ally, but how could that little innocent and pure soul take the courage to paint his hands with blood. The war was on, both of you watched the terror of the war, and when it ended a beauty was born, beauty to freedom for the once bondage soul.
You were a way to freedom for those bruised and enslaved Jewish people, running away from death to inhale life. Your friendly Jewish friend got the freedom to revive her lively moments once again, to dance to the rhythm of peace after the horrific experience she had, and you took the courage to gift her that precious moment.You are far more impeccable and pure than I actually thought.
I hail your name “Hail Jojo Betzlar! The world was in need of you.”
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